I Am Number Five
by SapphireOceans
Summary: "Sometimes I dream that the sky burns and these creatures overrun this beautiful planet. I don't know who I am anymore. All I know is I have to run. I'm told that I'm Number Five. But I don't remember." Aislinn can't recall her life before she was found wandering the streets as a child. But as dark events begin to unfold, she is left questioning both her identity and her sanity.
1. PROLOGUE

We are driving along a winding road in the dark, the moonlight filtering through the branches of the trees above. There is silence in the car. The driver looks tense. She is a woman who appears to be aged around 30, with coppery hair and wary, pale blue eyes. She seems ill at ease, constantly checking the wing mirror, her hands white knuckled, clenched tightly on the steering wheel. I shiver; her nerves are catching. Her head jerks suddenly, catching a flicker of movement out the window. My small hands clutch my seatbelt nervously. "Ciara? What's happening?"

She doesn't answer, straining to hear any tell tale noise above the hum of the engine.

"Ciara?"

"Sh!"Her eyes widen suddenly and she puts her foot down, the car accelerating rapidly. But she's not in time to avoid the vehicle that smashes into us.

I scream, the car flipping over and over, my hair flying into my face, blinding me. I can hear the woman's cries of pain too, over the rumbling thuds of car on earth. At last we grind to a halt, smashing into a tree. Tremulously, I open my eyes. I can't see anything through the cracked windscreen, but I can tell that we must be on our side. All I can hear is my own laboured breathing, my own heart thumping in my ears.

"Senara..." the woman's voice is urgent, her breathing laboured. "Senara are you hurt?"

"I...I don't think so..."

"Then you must run. They will come for you."

"But...but what number am I?"

"I doesn't matter right now- if you are next they will kill you now, if not they will simply wait until the others are dead."

"But-"

"GO!"

"Ciara, what about you?"

The woman lets out a soft moan of pain, and I see that the impact of the car had buckled the metal over her legs, crushing them. She's trapped. Even if she could get free she would die of blood loss and would be unable to walk, let alone run, at the very least.

"Go Senara."

Senara. That is my name at the moment. The woman is trying to move. With difficultly, she pulls something from her inside pocket. A plain white envelope. She shoves it into my hands. "Run."

I put the envelope into my pocket and undo my seatbelt with fumbling hands, before somehow managing to manoeuvre my small frame through the window, cutting myself on the glass in the process. I fall to the floor with a thump, and scramble to my feet, staring around into the darkness. Sinister shadows are approaching; I feel fear begin to prickle down my spine. With one last desperate glance back at the woman, I turn and run, run as fast as I can through the trees, wind whipping through my hair. I glance back, just one and wish I hadn't. I glance back just in time to see the woman ripped from the car and stabbed through the heart.

Running. Running, running, running through the trees. I can hear them, and put on a burst of speed. I'm ahead but they're gaining. They will catch me soon, and kill me like they killed her. I must run, I must, I must, I must...

Tarmac under my feet, not earth. There are lights, white and red, speeding around me, but I must keep running, I have to get away from them, I can't let them catch me...

I am unprepared when the lump of metal, travelling at 60 miles an hour smashes into me. I feel myself flying though the air, the lights swirling around me; I'm confused, I don't know which way's up or which way's down...

I hit something hard, something solid and the lights disappear into darkness.

* * *

**I read the first of these amazing books yesterday. I'd seen the film trailer and thought; _that looks cool_. Then I saw at the end of the trailer that the films was based on a book. Naturally, as the book is always 10 times better than the film, I immediately came to the conclusion that the book must be absolutely _awesome_ and went out and bought it the next day. And then read the entire thing yesterday. Granted, I often read a book or two a day, but due to exams and coursework and stuff like that, this was the second book I'd sat down and read in a day since _Christmas!_ I know. Shocker!**

**Anyway, I immediately became hooked, and after reading the teaser chapter for 'The Power of Six', was extremely traumatised to discover that it won't be out until AUGUST! AUGUST I TELL YOU!**

**So I decided to content myself with reading some fics instead. Only to find there weren't any. So I thought; Hey I'll write my own!**

**So here it is. It's based on an idea I had for the Lorien Legacy RP, which I thought it would be interesting to develop more :).**

**Sorry if the title's too cliché, I couldn't think of anything else...:S. Suggestions are always appreciated.**

**Reviews are always welcome, and encourage me to update faster!**

**Thank you very much for reading!**

**Love Sapphire**

**xxx**


	2. 1

**Okay, this chapter is shorter than I would have liked it to be, but hopefully the next one will make up for it! I hope you enjoy this and I hope I didn't use too much repetition...O.O**

**Reviews are always, always really appreciated!**

**xxx**

* * *

**1**

_**9 Years Later**_

People often ask me about the scars on my legs. They ask if I was in an accident, in a fight; sometimes they even ask if I self-harm. The authorities have different views. I'm pretty sure that the care workers here think that I was abused as a child. They think that's the reason why I was running away.

The truth it, I don't know where the scars come from. Over time I've learnt to ignore awkward questions by wearing long jeans and pulling my socks up higher in P.E. Swimming always poses a problem, but I just have to pray no one notices. The scars just...appear. Out of nowhere. I got the first when I was ten. It was around nine o'clock in the morning and I was just sitting down at my desk in primary school when a searing pain ripped through my leg. I screamed, clutching my ankle as it began to burn, rolling around on the floor. They took me to hospital to examine it and found the first scar.

I got the next when I was thirteen. I was online, randomly flipping through blogs, when one caught my eye. It was by someone simply called 'Two', and for some reason it sent shivers down my spine. There wasn't any profile. No lengthy bio. Just one, simple post.

'_Nine, now eight. Are the rest of you out there?_'

I stared at it, my whole body tingling. It meant something, I knew it did. I just didn't know what. Without thinking, I moved the mouse towards the reply button. I don't know what I was going to write; _Who are you?_ _What do you know about me?_

The questions were rushing through my head. Hesitating, I clicked the refresh button. And froze. There was a reply.

'_We are here._'

And then the pain hit. I screamed, the nylon school trousers I was wearing catching fire. A carer rushed in, took one look, and grabbed a fire extinguisher, dousing me in white foam. More questions. More disbelieving looks and raised eyebrows. But I didn't elaborate as much as before. And I didn't show them the scar. I simply told them that I'd accidently trodden on a lighter and my trousers had caught. I was learning caution.

I was in bed when I felt the third scar. It happened a couple of months ago and it took me completely by surprise; it was the first time it had happened in three years. I gritted my teeth and managed not to scream as the pain worked its way around my ankle, the glow dimmed under the bed clothes. My roommate didn't notice; she just snored louder. And now I'm feeling a strange sense of fear, as I sit in the small dark room that had been my home for the last nine years. Because why do these scars appear? And what did that post mean?

'_Nine, now eight..._'

What are the nine? Or should that be _who_ are the nine? Either way, why are there now only eight?

'_Nine now eight..._'

Posted by 'Two'...

'_Nine now eight..._'

And then the glowing scar which wrapped around my leg. The second scar. And when I looked up the webpage again the posts had been deleted.

'_Nine now eight..._'

The darkness and the fear is too great and I climb to my feet, going through my cupboard until I find the small cardboard box at the bottom.

'_Nine now eight..._'

Hands shaking, I pull out the envelope and open it. Inside is a strange necklace and a piece of paper.

'_Are the rest of you out there?_'

I unfold it and read the words which have confused me for so long.

_You are number five._

I clutch the necklace tightly, wondering what it all means.

'_We are here.'_


	3. 2

**2**

"Aislinn! What do you think you're doing?"

I moan slightly and open my eyes, and realise that I'm lying on thin, prickly carpet. I roll over and look up to see my roommate looking down at me with a distinctly unimpressed look on her face.

"Aislinn. I would like to be on time to school, today. Would you be so kind as to move your posterior out of the wardrobe so I can get dressed? Is that too much to ask?"

I roll my eyes and sit up, rubbing my cheek with one hand and trying to get rid of the strange pattern that the carpet has imprinted into my face overnight. I scramble to my feet and throw myself down on my bed, only realising that my hand other hand is still tightly clutched around the necklace and the letter when I go to reach for a hair brush. I quickly whip it back behind my back, praying the Siobhan doesn't see, but her sharp eyes catch the gesture.

"What's that Aislinn?"

"Nothing."

She raises an eyebrow. "What've you been doing?" her eyes widen. "It's not drugs or something, is it? You haven't been running errands for the boys have you?"

"No! Of course not! Siobhan, what do you take me for?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh come on, after that whole thing with the robbery in July?"

I flush. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really? We all know Kevin McFarely couldn't have fit through that window."

Kevin McFarely was sent down six months ago for burglary. He told everyone he worked alone, but it was a lie; every now and then he'd ask me to give him a hand. Kevin had always been really sweet to me, like a big brother, and he wasn't the bad guy everyone made him out to be. That is, he was tough. You had to be to survive in Cherry Oaks Children's Home. But he always had a soft spot for me. He'd always made sure I didn't get any bother. So when he asked for help on particular jobs, how could I refuse?

_It was pitch black, a black so dark it seemed almost solid, and which made it seem like the beams of our torches were knifes scything through the night. It hadn't been much trouble getting over the fence, although he'd had to give me a boost. They'd left the bathroom window open and that was where I came in. Kevin is tall, six foot four, and when I stood his shoulders it was like a human ladder. I scrambled onto the roof of the neighbours kitchen extension and, standing on tiptoe, could just reach the window sill. I pulled myself up onto the ledge and managed to squeeze through the small space, grateful for my petite form. I landed in the bath, knocking a bottle of shampoo of the shelf and froze as it fell with a _thunk_ against the tap. There was a grunting snore from the room next door . The sounds of a body shifting. Silence. Slowly, very, very slowly, hardly daring to breathe, I climbed out of the bath and made my way over to the door. It opened with a soft creak and I froze once more. Still silence. I picked my way carefully along the landing, sticking close to the walls, and made my way down the stairs, taking care only to tread on the edge of the steps, where the wood has more support and was less likely to creak. Then I was in the hall, scuttling to the kitchen and beginning a search for the keys to the back door. Suddenly there was a bang from upstairs. I felt my heart stop. Another bang. I had left the bathroom door open, and it was swinging back and forth in the breeze from the open window, hitting the wall. The wall to the bedroom. Bang._

_"Who's there?"_

_The voice echoed down the stairs and my hands began to shake; I resumed my frantic search for the keys. I heard a light switch on._

_"Patrick, is that you?"_

_Keys. I panicked, grabbing a pot and pulling off the lid. Keys. I scrabbled in the pot, feeling metal under my nails. There were so many! I could see Kevin's frantic face through the window._

_"_Open the door!_" he mouthed, his eyes urgent._

_"_Can't find the keys!_" I replied desperately._

_There were footsteps pounding across the landing. I abandoned the pot, searching around for a place to hide. The footsteps began to come down the stairs. I glanced back at the window and saw Kevin was gone. He'd abandoned me. I backed away._

_Panic rushed through me, white hot in contrast to my brain which felt like it been thrown into a vat of iced water. The fear spread through me, my trembling increasing; I felt sick, my head pounded, and my hands were shaking more than ever. The light bulb above my head suddenly shattered, glass falling into my hair. I could see the doorknob turning..._

SMASH!

_There was a muffled oath from the other side of the door and the footsteps receded. I heard the man's voice again._

_"You son of a bitch! You vermin! I'll get you for this!"_

_I finally found the right keys and snatched them up, unlocking the door and running outside, jumping as high as I could to try and make it over the fence. To my amazement, I sailed straight over, landing in a crouch on the other side. Before I had time to comprehend this, someone grabbed my elbow._

_"Run for it Ash!"_

_I did as Kevin ordered._

"Aislinn?"

I blink. Siobhan is staring at me strangely.

"You okay? You spaced out for a moment."

"I-I'm fine." I shake my head, as if to try and dislodge the dark thoughts haunting me. "Just memories."

I hesitate before slipping the necklace over my head and hiding it under my top.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! I apologise for any mistakes; this is being written on my iPod. And thank you to everybody who reviewed; TheHeightOfAwesomeness, ARedRose4Me, Troypayisbetter and CSINYfan6. Thank you, you amazing people!**


	4. 3

**Firstly, I would like to say that I am not Irish. Consequently, any mistakes with the language that have been made are GoogleTranslates fault. Honest! XD. Also, I've read up on the school system, so hopefully I've got that right!**

**And...LENT IS OVER! Happy Easter! I so did not bounce downstairs this morning going: "UPDATE TIIIIIIIIIME!" *Coughs* Okay, I may have done...XD**

**Thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed! It really, really makes my day to get an email saying that I've got another review! Not that I jump around the room going "Whooooo!" or anything...much XD. Anyway, I really, really appreciate people who take time to review, and I just wanted to tell you how amazing you all are! Thank you!**

**xxx**

* * *

**3**

I feel my neck prickle and know I'm being watched. Turning, I meet the eyes of the elderly shop keeper, who's giving me a suspicious look over his newspaper. I sigh; they all know. Word gets around here.

They caught Kevin. He'd thrown a brick through the front window of the house to give us a chance to get away. And we did. But the man recognised him. The police were round the next day. The suspected that he had an accomplice, but they couldn't prove it, and he was adamant that he was working alone. Everyone knew it was me, they just didn't have the proof; my fingerprints weren't on any records and the owner hadn't seen me. He's been in a young offenders unit for almost six months now. We still write; and he's getting out soon. I'm glad about that; I miss him. He was probably my only true friend. I place the chocolate bar I was examining back down on the shelf and head towards the door, eager to escape the old man's wary gaze. The bell rings as I step out onto the street and start to make my way along the grey concrete pavement towards school.

St Patricks Secondary (Mixed) is a grey, 1970's style building, and an eyesore amongst the older, more traditional buildings of Dublin. I join the ranks of unenthusiastic, green clad teenagers filing towards the metal gates and head towards the double doors; the front entrance of the building, preparing myself for yet another day of monotonic lectures and uncontrollable classes. Today is Tuesday; I check my timetable as I walk down the bustling corridors towards my locker and discover that I have double History first and second periods followed by Irish Language, Art and Music. I brighten slightly; I enjoy pretty much all of these subjects, even if I'm not amazing at Irish. The teacher, however, makes up for my failings; she knows that all the other kids have been studying the language since they were around four or five, and that I began late, especially as it took me a while to settle down in school.

I yank open the door of my locker, pulling out my bulging History folder and the thick, musty textbook, and stuffing them into my bag, before making my way towards my form room. I slide in at the back, pulling out my sketchpad and beginning to draw. I'm one of the first there, so I have 15 minutes of sketching whilst the room fills up and the teacher enters. It finishes too soon. Mrs O'Doherty enters, her expression suggesting that there is a particularly bad small underneath her nose, as per usual. She places her books on the desk and surveys the chatting, giggling class, who immediately fall silent. She is, most probably, the only teacher in the entire school who inspires enough fear to have that effect, which is quite funny considering that this four foot twelve, stick like lady with severe bun of iron grey hair, who is dwarfed by many of the girl pupils, let alone the boys, has a greater effect than the most burly of teachers. I hastily shove my sketch book in my bag.

"_Maidin mhaith leanaí_." She says in Gaelic, her eagle eyes surveying us.

"_Maidin mhaith Bean O'Doherty_." we reply, many stuffing phones or other banned items hastily into blazer pockets.

She sniffs and begins to take the register.

"Seamus Boyle?"

"Here Mrs O'Doherty."

She ticks his name.

"Kaitlin Brady?"

"Here Mrs O'Doherty."

I grin at Kaitlin, and she grins back. She's probably the closest thing I have to a best friend, apart from Kevin, and she's completely bonkers; she had wild blonde curls which almost seem to bubble from her head, and bright, mischievous green eyes which are nearly always bright with suppressed laughter. She's forever dreaming up wild schemes and complex plots, which, more often than not, land her- and me- in trouble.

"Aislinn Brennan?"

"Here Mrs O'Doherty."

I'm next to Kaitlin in the register, which is both a blessing and a curse, as we consequently sit together in almost every class. It's a blessing because it means I'm always with a friend. It's a curse because whenever she gets in trouble, so do I. In her words: "If I'm going down, you're coming with me."

Still, she's a laugh.

Eventually registration's over, and Kaitlin and I meander off to History.

"We've got that Blitz woman coming in today." Kaitlin says, helping herself to my lunch.

"Oi!"

"What? I haven't had any breakfast!"

"Well you can't have my lunch!"

She gives me puppy dog eyes. "Pleeeeeeeeease Ash? You know how much you love me...pretty pretty please? With a cherry on top."

"...Let me think about it." I pause for a second. "Thought about it and my answer is no. Now gimmie."

"Never! You will never take you lunch alive!"

I raise an eyebrow. "So what, now you're holding my lunch to ransom?"

"Yes."

"Do not make me have to resort to violence Kate."

She pouts. I attack.

"Noooooooo!"

Her shrill squeals fill the corridor as I tickle her without mercy. I manage to reclaim the lunch box finally, and secure it safely in my school bag. Kaitlin begins to sulk.

"Oh lighten up you wet blanket! It was cheese and tomato anyway."

"Yugh!" Kaitlin pulls a faced. She can't stand anything watery in sandwiches. She says it makes them soggy.

I grin, before realising the corridor is pretty empty. "Kate..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you get the feeling we're late for History?"


	5. 4

**Hi guys! I am sooooooooooooooooo sorry I haven't updated in ages! Computer issues (said computer now kills any battery that is put inside it and refuses to charge it) meant that I couldn't access the next chapter I'd started and I have eventually resorted to rewriting it...**

**Firstly, a massive THANK YOOOOOOOOOOU to everyone who has taken the time and effort to review, you are all amazing and without you all I would do is sit in bed and cry over the writer's block I have with my novel and eat lots of junk food. You guys rock!**

**Also...read the Power of Six finally! Though I have to admit, fan fiction and the events of the actual series are beginning to merge inside my mind, so watch out! XD. Loved it, but won't include any spoilers here, for those who haven't read it :)**

**Anyway, this books is set during/after I Am Number Four, so I won't include much info from the second book in this fic as that would send it in an entirely different direction, ect...so yeah. The Power of Six hasn't happened in this fic :) Okeydokey? :)**

**Now, enough of my rambling, enjoy and I'll try and update more often now that I have a new computer! (Though A-Levels will probably get in my way D:. First exam in January, eep!)**

**P.S I have grammar checked this as much as possible, but I originally was writing it with a craaaap keyboard, so grammar and spelling were horrible. I've proof read, but typos may have escaped me, in which case I apologise :(. And I have just realised that my spell check is on U.S English. This explains a lot. I thought I was going insane, because it was telling me to spell words like 'apologise' and 'realised' as 'apologized' and 'realized'. And words like 'colour' as 'color'. Sorry, rambling again! How on earth do I set my language on this computer...?**

**Anyhoo, enjoy the chapter!**

**xxx**

* * *

**4**

"Wait behind after class, you two." Mr O'Leary says as Kaitlin and I skulk into the classroom. "I won't tolerate lateness."

We both groan and slump into our seats as Mr O'Leary begins to talk again.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, Mrs Flynn has kindly agreed to talk to you about her own experiences during the war. Take it away, Mrs Flynn."

An old woman with grey hair loosely scraped back in a bun totters over to the front of the classroom. "My name is Edith Flynn, and I lived in London during the Second World War. I am English, as you can probably tell, but moved here, to Ireland, to live with my husband after we married. Now, first of all I'm going to pass around some items which belonged to me as a child in London during the Blitz...here, all of you take a good look."

She hands out some objects and the class begin to pass them around. I watch and wait for my turn, feeling decidedly muggy. I shake my myself slightly. What's wrong with me? My head is pounding, my body tingling. The first item reaches me and I examine it vaguely; it's a teddy bear...

_I can hear the trains whistling, smoke billowing from their funnels. The children all round me are pushing and shoving; I feel like I'm being crushed. _Where's my mama? I want my mama...

I jerk and quickly pass the teddy over to Kaitlin, my hands shaking. What was that? What did I just see? I must be ill, really ill...  
The second item as reached me by now and I take it tentatively, my hands closing around cool metal. I can feel sweat trickling down m face; my hands are freezing, they are so cold that they're burning...

_I'm falling, wind whistling through my ears, the air cold against my skin. I keep descending until suddenly there is contact; and then the world is fire and I'm spinning through space, and everything is heat and blood and the roar in my ears.  
_  
"That's a piece of shrapnel...are you alright dear?"

I open my eyes. Edith Flynn is staring at me with a concerned expression. "You look ill!"

"I...I..."

"She can finish the lesson." Mr O'Leary butts in. "She'll be fine."

"If you're sure..." Edith looks doubtful, but continues. "I found this on a bomb site; it must have come from a German bomb." she gently takes the metal from me. I've been clutching it so hard that it's gouged deep marks into my hand.

"Here, Ash." Kaitlin passes me an old soldier's cap. I gently take it with both hands, curious and terrified about what I may be about to see.  
_  
"Run George!"_  
_We are running through the trees, leaping over shell holes, ducking the whine of enemy bullets attacking us like a swarm of deadly gnats. Lt. Geffories is ahead, yelling at me to catch up, to keep running-_  
_Then comes the pain, a cold fire in my side, sapping my strength. I fall to the floor, clutching at my side, my hands stained with blood. "Help!" I gasp, trying to stem the flow, the pain almost unbearable. "For God's sake, help me!"_  
_Geffories looks back once before running away into the trees._  
_Voices are coming closer, voices talking in a strange, alien language. Two German men, their rifles at the ready. One points at me and shouts, pointing his rifle in my direction._

_I close my eyes, the pain in my side seeming to flare up suddenly._

_The end, when it comes, is almost a relief._

"Aislinn!"

White pain explodes in my cheek. I open my eyes. Kaitlin is staring at me with a scared expression.

"You were, like, fitting, and screaming and stuff!" she looks at me. "You look awful!"

"She should go to the nurse." says another voice and my eyes flicker to Edith Flynn. "She's ill."

"George…" I gasp, breathing in deep panting gasps. "George…"

Kaitlin frowns. "Who's George?"

"George died."

Mrs Flynn has gone very still.

"They shot him in the woods…they were running…" I hardly know what I'm saying, the words seem to spill out uncontrollably, like a boat caught in rapids. "The Germans…the Germans got him. They killed him."

I can feel a lump rising in my throat. Mrs Flynn roughly snatches back the hat, her face white.

"How can you...how can you possibly know…" she looks almost angry, angry and frightened. "Who are you? _What_ are you?"

I find myself getting to my feet, struggling to support myself on shaking legs. I head for the door, trembling all over, my hands like ice.

"_What are you? What are you!"_

Mrs Flynn is screaming at me now, and I break into a run, out of the classroom into the corridor.

"_WHAT ARE YOU?"_

The pendant around my neck seems to burn in reply to a question I have no answer to.

* * *

**Reviews would be much appreciated! :D**

**xxx**


	6. 5

**Hi everyone, once again I have not updated for ages. I'm sorry D:. But when I say I've had a lot going on, I mean I've had a lot going on. Firstly, there's been my schoolwork; I'm failing History, although my grades have just started coming up, I've had to memorise an entire play for Drama; I've had a friend going through a pretty tough time and I wanted to be there for her; I've been staying after school for about two-three hours longer than I need to in order to run the school production; I'm applying for Oxbridge so I've started going to meetings for that and working towards that; I'm doing my Grade Seven singing; I'm hopefully applying for a Choral Scholarship, I'm going on a Creative Writing Course; I'm writing my novel; I've had exams; I've had my birthday, I've been trying to update my Ingo fic more often; I've been trying to write songs; trying to update my YouTube Channel; trying to get better on guitar; perhaps applying for the National Youth Choir…Yeah, I'm really burnt out. Like I said, I've had a lot going on. Rant over. Sorry! Onto this chapter!**

**Thank you so much to everyone for their absolutely lovely reviews!**

**BTW, I sometimes like to associate songs with particular chapters and characters; the song to listen too for this chapter would be 'Field of Innocence' by Evanescence .**

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**5**

I tell the nurse I'm ill.

She takes one look at me and calls the home straight away, sending me off in the back of the home's minibus clutching a sick bag.

It's nice to have the room to myself; Siobhan's still at school. I glance in the mirror and wince; it's no wonder they sent me home. I'm as white as a ghost and my hands are still trembling. I lie on my bed, wrapping myself tightly in my duvet to try and warm myself; for some reason I'm freezing cold, but sweating slightly. It's not just my hands that are trembling now; I'm shivering all over. I stare up at the peeling plaster of the ceiling, only my eyes peeping out over the top of the warm confines of the duvet, wondering.

_What's wrong with me?_

What did I see when I held those objects? Was it just a hallucination? Some weird side effect of my illness? Is my imagination just getting the better of me?

_Why did I see those things? How did I see those things?_

I close my eyes, pressing my hands down over the closed lids, trying to get rid of the images that seem to be burnt into my brain, trying to make them go away.

Trying to make everything just go away.

-x-

When I wake, hours later, it's to hear Siobhan barging into the room and throwing herself down on her bed. I lie still listening as she yawns and stretches, dumping her bag on the floor. There is a rustle of bedclothes, and I hear her get up and creep over to me. I stay motionless, my eyes closed, waiting in tense silence.

"Ash?" comes her breathy hiss after a long moment. "Ash, are you awake?"

I keep my breathing regular and even, my face relaxed, hoping and praying that she'll go away. That she'll just leave me alone.

"Ash!" she hisses again, her tone growing more impatient. "Aislinn!"

Still I don't respond. I'm not in the mood to talk, not to anyone. Especially not to a gossipmonger like Siobhan.

She stands there for a while, not saying anything. I can picture her expression, her light brown eyes narrowed, her forehead pinched as she tries to decide whether I'm faking. After about a minute, I hear her sigh and turn away, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

I breathe more easily, relaxing. After a while, I tentatively open my eyes, checking that she really has left the room. When I'm satisfied she won't come bursting back in at any second, I sit up. I instantly regret it; it feels as if a ten tonne anvil has just hit me square in the forehead, as if I am a character in a children's cartoon. I groan softly, sitting there for a moment and clutching my head, the headache throbbing like a prickly sea urchin inside my skull. When the pain has died down a little, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, tottering to my wardrobe and pulling out a pair of jeans and the first top I can find; I'm not in the mood to be fussy. I stumble down the corridor to the bathroom and lock myself in, beginning to run a bath. I sit on the edge of the tub as hot water begins to pour into it, fiddling with the necklace around my neck, closing my eyes and humming softly to myself.

_Fire._

My eyes snap open.

_Pain._

I stare down at the necklace and try to let go of it. My hand disobeys my orders.

_The world is burning. I stand in the rubble, in the remains of what was once a beautiful street, staring around me in horrified despair. A sense of helplessness and futility threatens to overwhelm me; it's all I can do not to curl into a ball and sob uselessly. Then a hand takes mine._

"_Run!"_

_The woman pulls me through the streets, skirting around the debris that litters the neighbourhood. I'm sobbing now, clinging to her hand; my only lifeline. Then it is ripped from mine and I fall to the ground with a thud, all the air flying from my lungs. I'm alone, abandoned. I'm going to die. They're going to find me and-_

_I'm hoisted up into someone's arms._

_The woman has come back for me; she clutches me close to her chest as she races through the streets towards something, something that I hope will take us away from here. Something that will save us. I open my eyes a fraction and look back at my home over the woman's shoulder, watching the flames consume everything I love and turn it all into ashes._

My eyes jerk open, and finally my body obeys me; I rip the strange pendant from my throat and hurl it away from me, far away. It lands on the tiled floor with a clink on the other side of the room, looking as innocent as small kitten curled up with a bow around its neck. But I know better. I know this kitten has hidden claws, which, if I let them, might just tear me apart.

I shudder suddenly, glancing back at the bath and hastily turning off the tap before I use too much water. I undress and climb in slowly, the hot water stinging at first, but soon soothing my cold, shaking body. I duck under the water, running my hands through my long dark hair to try and remove the tangles, before resurfacing and rubbing water over my face and my tired eyes. I lie, there, feeling myself calm down slowly. What's wrong with me? I'm just being silly. I'm a bit under the weather, that's all. I've got some sort of bug, it's given me a temperature and now my overactive imagination's playing tricks on me. That's all that's going on. I open my eyes and look up into the mirror which hangs above the sink. A pale girl with high cheekbones, a freckled ski-slope nose and almond shaped grey eyes looks back at me, looking no more convinced than I feel.

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**Please review x**


	7. INTERLUDE I

**INTERLUDE**

_The Warrior_

The driving is monotonous and seems to go on forever.

The girl sighs and accelerates slightly, pushing her thick black hair out of her eyes, impatiently tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. She glances over at her companions for a moment, but they are both sleeping; one with his head resting against the window of the truck, the other lolling against her shoulder. She smirks, and nudges him so that he slides to the left and ends up resting against the other boy. She reminds herself to focus and returns her gaze to the road, alert for danger, although the boredom and the tiredness creeping through her bones are beginning to take their toll. Nevertheless, she won't let her concentration falter; she's hunting after all. Soon the seemingly endless cycle of hotels and driving will be broken; soon they will have found their quarry, found them and united them. Her stormy grey eyes glitter with suppressed excitement. That will be when the battle really begins. That's when they'll finally be able to take a stand, for their own planet and the humans. She knows she should be scared of the fight, but inside she is thrilled.

She is a born warrior, after all.

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**Please review guys; it only take a moment! I didn't get any reviews for my last chapter, which was really disheartening...****I'm not going to go off in a massive strop about it, but I was kind of disappointed. I mean, reviews keep me going and give me encouragement, and if no one reviews then I feel like no one's actually reading the story and ****then I don't feel like writing, because what's the point if no one's reading? Sorry, I don't want to be all stressy, but it would just be really great if perhaps you could find the time to just do a quick review in future :) Much love,**

**Sapphire**

x


	8. 6

**Whoo, double update today :) Enjoy! Guess which song I was listening too whilst writing this? XP**

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**6**

I keep my head down as I creep into school on Friday, the hood of my jacket pulled up in an attempt to conceal my face. However, the thin grey fabric doesn't shield me from the hushed whispers and pointing fingers of the majority of the school community. I feel over a hundred burning stares drilling into the back of my head as I walk into the building, and even more as I make my way through the dismal corridors and into my form room. I sit down at the back as usual, pulling out a book and pretending to read, endeavouring to avoid interaction with any of my classmates. The words seem to swim in front of me on the page, rows of dancing black ink characters which seem to have been spewed out haphazardly by some form of giant squid.

"Ash?"

I look up from the book. Kaitlin is hovering next to me, looking unsure of herself. "Ash, can I sit down?"

I nod mutely, moving my bag. She collapses in the seat next to me. "How're you feeling?"  
I shrug, turning back to the book. I stare at the page blankly in silence before I get the sensation that someone's watching me. I look up and shriek.

Kaitlin's eyes are looking at me over the top of the book.

She bursts out laughing at my reaction and moves back, still pulling a funny face. "That was a beautiful scream! Nice one Ash!"

I mock glower at her.

"Oh don't even try and pretend you're cross!" she says, shuffling her chair so that she's right next to me and flinging her arms around my neck. "I know you love me really!"

"Gerrof you limpet!" I choke, trying to prise her arms away; I'm having trouble breathing.

"Never!" she keeps clinging and then moves so she's sitting on me. "You can never escape!"

"Gnaaaaaagh!" I wheeze. "Kate…can't…breathe…"

She pouts, but loosens her arms. "Better?"

"Yes thank you…" I scowl. "Now, gerrof my lap you nutter!"

"Nutter? Me?" she pouts, sitting back on her own chair. "I'm perfectly sane, thank you!"

I snort.

"Okay, mostly sane then."

"That's still stretching it." I say, but I'm smiling.

She laughs.

"Miss Brennan! Miss Brady!" booms an enraged voice we both guiltily turn to the front of the classroom, where Mrs O'Doherty is standing with folded arms. "When the both of you have quite finished."

We both fall silent, exchanging rueful looks.

"Detention on Friday." Mrs O'Doherty snaps, before beginning the register.

-x-

By the end of break, I'm beginning to think that I should have stayed in bed.

"Ash, you should go to the nurse." Kaitlin hisses, playing with a strand of her blond hair, looking concerned.

I shake my head. "I don't want there to be a big fuss." If I go home now, it'll just cause more speculation amongst those more inclined towards hearsay.

She rolls her eyes. "Aislinn, you are the same colour as a rather pasty looking ghost who's been living in the Arctic for several years, without even a recreational trip to Spain."

I stare at her. "That was a rather stunning simile."

"I'm glad you appreciate it. Now go to the nurse."

"No!" I shake my head. "Kate, it'll just make people gossip more…"

"Screw them!" she said, folding her arms, but seeing the determination in my face, she changes the subject.

"I know what'll cheer you up!"

"What?" I raise an eyebrow.

"The singing and dancing Kaitlin Show!"

"The singing and dancing…Kaitlin, no!"

"_You want the moves like Jagger, I've got the moves like Jagger, I've got the like Jagger_!"

"Kaitlin, get off the table!"

She laughs, shimmying out of reach, pulling her hair out of its ponytail so that it bounces around her face in crazy corkscrew curls.

"_I don't need try to control you; look into my eyes and I'll own you…_" she begins to do 70's dancing, putting one hand on her hip and pointing the other into the air.

"Kaitlin…" I manage to gasp through helpless peals of laughter. "You'll get in so much trouble!"

By this point the rest of our form is laughing too, cheering her on.

"You're just jealous of my moves Aislinn!" she cries, now beginning to shake her hips like Shakira. "_I've got the mooooooves... like Jagger_!"

Thankfully, before she's caught by a teacher, the bell rings. Kaitlin hops down from the table and swings her bag over her shoulder, grinning at me.

"Kaitlin, you are actually certifiably insane." I say, smiling. She may be as crazy as a bat, but she's certainly succeeded in taking my mind of other things.

"And that is why you love me Ash." She says smugly.

I roll my eyes, but link my arm through hers as we walk down the corridor towards English.

"Ash, you're shaking!" She says suddenly, glancing at me.

"I feel fine." I say quickly, pushing the door of the English classroom open.

"Yeah, right…" she's still peering at me, looking like a mad scientist with her hair still wild and her green eyes glinting suspiciously from behind her glasses.

"I am, really!" I protest.

She snorts.

We slump into our usual seats, dumping out bags on the table in front of us. We wait in silence as the classroom begins to fill up around us. Miss O'Keeffe is late again; she's young, new to the school, and she always arrives about five minutes late for everything with folders practically bursting from her arms, her scarf trailing along the ground behind her.

I can still feel Kaitlin shooting glances at me, but I ignore her, closing my eyes and resting my forehead against my cold, sweaty hand which is only shaking a little. I've got a headache; it feels as though about six cave trolls are having a raucous party inside my skull.

"Aislinn?"

I look up to see a slender woman with anxious brown eyes staring at me in concern. "Aislinn _a chara_, are you okay?"

I nod. When did Miss O'Keeffe enter the room? I must have drifted off slightly when I had my eyes closed. The noise emitting from the rest of the class is deafening. Miss O'Keeffe's face creases into a smile before she stands up and bangs the pen against the board. "Settle down now class…"

No one takes any notice.

She bangs the board again, creating a feeble thudding noise. "_Le bhur dtoil_! Please, everyone!"

The noise dims slightly for a moment, but then returns in full force. She closes her eyes in despair.

I sigh, resting my chin in my palm. That's when I notice Miss O'Keeffe's scarf on the floor. She hasn't noticed she's lost it; she's still frantically trying to draw the class's attention, so I bend down to pick it up for her, my fingers curling around the silky silvery-blue material.

_Fear._

_The emotion hits me hard, like a hammer. I am looking through the eyes of Sarah O'Keeffe and it isn't pretty._

_Fear of everything. Fear of the screaming, clamouring school children she has to attempt to control every day, the school children who never listen to a word she says, who leave her feeling useless, worthless and alone; the fear of losing her job for being such a contemptible teacher. But the main fear stems from something else, and now the memory is coming, the endless swirl of emotions and hopeless wishes and dreams are focusing into one defined point._

"_You worthless piece of shit!"_

_And Sarah is crying on the floor as Adam towers over her, his eyes cold._

"_Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he snarls, tilting her chin up so she's facing him._

_Her tears trickle down her cheeks and into his fingers._

_And then his face changes, his eyes widening and he's sobbing, apologising, holding her, telling her it will never happen again._

_And she believes him because she has nothing and no one else in her miserable life to cling to._

"Ash!"

I open my eyes, staring blankly at the pale anxious girl in front of me who's bright eyes are staring at me with anxiety.

"Oh God Ash, don't do that to me!" she says, sitting back in her seat, relaxing slightly. "I thought you were having a freaking seizure!"

I say nothing, slowly dropping Miss O'Keeffe's scarf, horror plastered all over my face.

"Aislinn?" Miss O'Keeffe bends down, looking at me in concern. "Aislinn, you're not well…"

"Leave him." I gasp before I can stop myself.

She stares at me blankly, a frown creeping over her face.

"He's not worth it. He won't change. He's lying when he says he will."

Her eyes widen. "How…no…you can't possibly..."

"Just…leave him. Please."

She stares at me blankly for a moment, her doe eyes wide. "I think you should go to the nurse Aislinn." She says after a long moment. "I think you're ill. Okay?"

Slowly I reach down and pass her her scarf, before getting to my feet. Kaitlin picks up my bag for me and follows me as I walk out of the classroom in silence, the watchful eyes of the other students almost making me feel like I'm a prisoner walking to her execution.

* * *

**Please review x**


	9. 7

**I have not updated in agggggges! I am so sorry! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you are all wonderful, thank you so much! And now exams are over, I should hopefully begin updating more frequently, although I can't make any promises as I am juggling quite a few other fics as well, in addition to all the forums I am the admin of :S. Oh, and my new job. And university visits. And then starting A2 Levels…Oh fun. And also, the new image manager thing is so cool! I hope you guys like the cover I made for this fic; you can find the full sized image on my Polyvore account (Sapphire-Oceans) if you want to get a better look :).**

**Anyway, on with the chapter, and again, a massive thank you all reviewers; you guys rock socks!**

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**7**

It's funny. If whispers follow you for long enough, you can almost get used to them. They are a constant presence now, always hissing in my ears, murmuring away, their owners just out of sight. Taunting, jeering, muttering. I walk through the corridors like a ship slicing through water, leaving torrents of whispers in my wake. Word has got out about what I said to Miss O'Keffee yesterday and tongues are already beginning to wag. _Lunatic. Prophet. Attention seeker. Alien. Freak. Freak. __**Freak**__. _

I sit down in my usual seat at the back in registration, but today there seems to be an invisible barrier around me that no one wants to try and permeate. The eyes that look at me are suspicious and flick away quickly when I meet them, darting wildly around the room, fixing on anything except my gaze. Slowly I pull out a book and fix my eyes on the pages, but just like yesterday it is impossible to focus; the words twist and turn in a mass of seething black lines, like dark worms on the white paper, spiralling and curling like the tangled mass of my thoughts. I thankfully put it down when Mrs O'Doherty enters, staring straight ahead at her and trying not to notice the distinct lack of a certain presence at my side. If I look very carefully out of the corner of my eye I can see the familiar mass of blonde curls on the other side of the room, looking determinedly away from me. Kaitlin knows that torrents of whispers can drown people, and she's jumped away from the sinking ship before it's too late, leaving me to sink down to the rocky ocean bed alone and lie there, a forlorn, empty wreck, without her. The thought makes something in my stomach twist violently and sickeningly and I drag my eyes away from her, trying to ignore the bitter, angry taste in my mouth.

Art is somewhat of a release. I let my feelings spew onto the page, dark, strong brush strokes leaving their mark, laying my anger bare. The fine, delicate strokes that mark the page are my hope. The twisting, seething purple mass of tendrils which curl around the black is my confusion. The blood red lashes are my fear.  
It's while before I realise the teacher's watching me. I glance over my shoulder to see an frown on her face. "Aislinn, that wasn't the work I set. I asked for a self-portrait."

I turn and glance back at my paper and see the mass of lines. "It is a self-portrait." I say harshly before picking up my brushes and heading over to the sink, leaving her to stare at the page with furrowed and brows. I know what she sees; a barren landscape; thick black tree trunks topped with purple canopies, the ground around the trees sparkling faintly with delicate gold flowers which are all but smothered by red weeds. I wonder if; she stares hard enough, will she see my soul?

I make it to lunchtime without incident, sitting down at the end of a table in the canteen, a few seats away from anyone. I pick at my pasta pot for a little while, but in reality I'm not that hungry. I wonder whether to save it for later or just chuck it away, and I'm just glancing up to assess the distance to the nearest bin when I meet a familiar pair of green eyes staring at me from behind a pair of square lenses. Kaitlin hesitates as our eyes lock, before beginning to move towards me, her face determined. A curious hush descends on the canteen as people register the purpose in her stride, the direction she's heading in. I was wrong. Kaitlin isn't a desperate sailor jumping ship; she's my sister ship, joining my fleet. Kaitlin is making ripples of her own. She pulls out a chair and sits, setting her tray down beside mine. She's breached the invisible barrier. I look at her and she looks back at me.

"Hi." She says finally in a shaky voice.

"Hi." I reply, a faint smile tickling the corners of my mouth.

She glances at my tray. "I swear that the food in this place is greasier than John Travolta's hair."

"Well they do say that 'Grease is the word' Kate."

She grins and I grin back.

A bubble of laugher rushes through me and the anger I felt begins to lessen slightly. The trees are waning slightly, the weeds are slowly receding and the golden flowers are beginning to bloom.

-x-

Kaitlin and I walk out together at the end of the school day, ignoring the stares of the other students. Kaitlin babbles on about this new anime she's started watching and how hot one of the guys in it is and I half listen, smiling slightly to myself, just happy to have her familiar chatter next to me. That's when I notice the gleam of silver in the dirt. I frown and bend down, scooping up the silver charm bracelet holding it between my fingers.

"What's that?" Kaitlin breaks off from her stream of words to frown at the object in my hand. "Maybe you should give it into lost property?"

I nod and start back towards the school, but instantly freeze. _Not now…please not know…_ The throbbing headache is beginning to pound in my skull; my hands are cold and sweating, my body shaking.

"Ash?" Kaitlin swears violently, trying to tug the bracelet away, but I suddenly grasp it more tightly, my hand acting without my instruction.

_Pain._

The sensation slices through me like a shard of ice piercing my soul.

_It hurts. It hurts so badly. Make it stop. Please, someone make it stop. Someone help._

I can hear my heart thudding hard in my ears. The ground lurches under my feet and I can hear Kaitlin calling my name. "Ash! Aislinn!"

_Someone help me. Please. Please. Metal, twisted around me. Trapped in a warped cage composed of jagged spikes and jagged edges. Wetness on my face. Trickling down. In my eye. The wet in my eyes. Can't see, blinded. It hurts. Pain. My leg, my leg. Wetness on my leg. Pain wetness. Stop. Please make it-pain. Leg twisted, metal crushing-hurts. Hurts. Make the hurt go away. Warmth through body. Make the hurt- make the hurt…yes, the hurt is going. The hurt is going. Metal is going. It's alright now, safe, safe, sa-_

I retch, the greasy pasta almost making a reappearance. I'm curled on the ground and my face is wet- _wetness on face-_no, a different wet. Tears. I am crying. I feel a sob shake through me and detect a hand on my arm.

"Ash? Ash, can you hear me?"

I open my eyes and stare up at the creased anxious face above me, the eyes magnified by the thick rimmed glasses.

"Ash, say something…"

"Kate?"

"Good, okay, that's good…No! Don't get up you ninny!"

I ignore her, clumsily swaying to my feet, looking around for her. Where is she? Where-

I see her. I know it's her, although we've never really spoken. I start to walk towards her, Kaitlin trailing behind in confusion.

"Ash?"

I don't stop until I reach the girl. What's her name again? 'R' something…Rose? Rosheen?_Róisín_. That's it.

"Hi." I blurt out, startling her.

"Urm…" she stares at me, looking slightly perplexed and a little scared. "Hi?"

"Are you going anywhere soon, anywhere by car?" I say, my hands trembling.

She looks even more nervous. "I'm…I'm going to my grandparents' house in Galway this weekend…"

"Don't go."

"What?" she stares at me like I'm a lunatic. I know I look like a lunatic, but I have to try, have to do something…

"Don't go. Something bad is going to happen if you do."

She laughs. "Oh come on, seriously? I thought someone your age would be above trying to freak me out…"

"It's not a joke. Seriously. Don't go. Please."

"Whatever." She rolls her eyes and begins to walk away.

"_Róisín,_ wait!" I cry, chasing after her.

"What?" she snaps, exasperated.

"Is this yours?" I hold out the silver charm bracelet. "I found it on the ground."

She stares at me for a moment before picking up the bracelet and putting it on. "Thank you." She says curtly before turning away and walking off again.

I sigh and return to Kaitlin who looks rather worried. "What was all that about?"

"Just a feeling." I mumble, but inside my head is spinning. It was different that time. More fluid. Less solid. That must mean it can be changed. Of course that's what that means. The past, which I've seen with the old woman's relics and Miss O'Keeffe's scarf, that was clearer, much clearer. I knew what was going on and knew that it was carefully fixed in time, unchangeable. But just now…it was more disjointed. Fragmented. Like it was still settling. Like there was a chance…a chance…  
I sigh. It was similar too though. I knew who the vision referred too, I obviously lost my senses whilst it was happening, I still needed contact with a personal object…

This strange mass of disorganised theories, of course, rests entirely on the principle that I am sane and am not merely experiencing some strange hallucinations. I say goodbye to Kaitlin outside the gates, ignoring her pleas for me to see a doctor, and head for my bus whilst she heads for hers. Just as I board the bus I think I see a strange shadow watching me from the darkness of the alleyway between the shops facing the school. But when I go to get a second look, the figure has vanished.

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	10. 8

**Why hello there . Updates should be much more frequent for a little while now, as school is finally over! Thank you so much to everyone for reviewing; you're all totally awesome and you rock socks! **

**Also, I've finally found a use for my long neglected twitter account; announcing progress on the writing of fanfiction :D. I'm Sapphire_Oceans if you're interested in following me :D x**

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**8**

By Monday, the world knows.

Well. The whole of Dublin, at least.

The reporters descend on me as soon as I reach the school gates;

"Miss Brennan! Miss Brennan!"

"Aislinn! Aislinn, over here!"

A microphone is shoved in my face and a hailstorm of questions and incessant flashes from camera's attack me as I struggle to make my way through the crowd and into school.

"Miss Brennan! Miss Brennan, if it true you have the third eye?"

"Is it true that you predicted the death of Róisín Finnigan two days before it happened?"

"Are you a Prophet, Aislinn? Was it a message from God?"

"Do you have any more messages? Miss-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

A small hand grips my arm and hauls me from the sea of reporters, saving me from drowning in questions to which I have no answer.

Mrs O'Doherty whirls around, standing in front of me like a guard dog, her face murderous. "I suggest that you all leave school premises!" she bellows at the mass of reporters, who all fall strangely silent. "IMMEDIATELY!"

Even I take a step back at her final word. There is a bit off scuffling before the crowd slowly begin to back away, shuffling uneasily. I almost laugh at how this tiny woman has managed to intimidate them with so few words, but one look at Mrs O'Doherty's face kills any mirth.

"Come, Miss Brennan." She says in a curt voice, turning on her heel and marching off. I trail after her, twisting my hands together anxiously as she leads me into the school and towards the Headmaster's office. I can't prevent myself from flinching slightly as she raps brusquely on the door.

"Come in."

Despite my past criminal activities, I have never actually been in the headmaster's office; apart from the odd piece of incomplete homework or late detention I've actually, somehow managed to keep a rather clean track record at school. I look around curiously from behind my hair. The carpet looks as though it was once a rich peacock blue, but years of miscreants trudging up to the rather flimsy looking pine desk have dimmed the colour to a rather faded cerulean. Mr O'Connell looks as washed out as his carpet; his hair already seems to have given up on him and is retreating away from the front of his head towards the back, leaving a shiny bald patch visible. Several remaining hairs have been combed over in an attempt to conceal it. The attempt has been unsuccessful. His skin has an almost greyish, worn-out tinge and there are dark circles under his watery blue eyes, hinting at many sleepless night.

"Boadicea," he says in a surprisingly rich voice for such a worn looking man. "What can I do for you today?" he stands and politely pulls out her chair for her, as well as an extra one for me. I can't help noticing that his suit is as threadbare as his office. I mumble my thanks and sit down.

"Well _Mr_ O'Connell-" Mrs O'Doherty obviously isn't one for first name terms between teachers in front of students. "-I'm afraid we have some problems with reporters."

"Reporters?" Mr O'Connell straightens slightly. I study the items on his desk, not wanting to meet his eyes. He has some interestingly shaped paper weights, as well as a framed photograph of a smiling brunette girl standing next to a woman who is obviously her mother. His wife and daughter? They look a lot better dressed than him; in fact most of the brands their wearing look as if they're designer. That would probably explain the state of Mr O'Connell's office, as well as his perpetually harassed appearance. "Is it about poor Miss Foster?"

"In a way." I shrink back slightly as Mrs O'Doherty gives me a meaningful _look_, lips pursed. "For some reason, word seems to have got out that apparently Miss Brennan here is some kind of prophet. The reporters were waiting for her; they seem to think she predicted Miss Finnigan's death before it happened."

These words are now slowly starting to sink in. _Is it true that you predicted the death of __Róisín Finnigan two days before it happened? _My stomach heaves and Mr O'Connell has just enough time to leap up and pass me a waste paper basket before it empties_. _Róisín is dead. Róisín is dead. Which must mean…which must mean…

_I'm going to my grandparents' house in Galway this weekend…_

"Miss Brennan?"

_Metal, twisted around me. Trapped in a warped cage composed of jagged spikes and jagged edges…_

"Miss Brennan!"

_Stop. Please make it-pain. Leg twisted, metal crushing-hurts. Hurts. Make the hurt go away._

"Aislinn!"

_The hurt is going. Metal is going. It's alright now, safe, safe, sa-_

Darkness.

-x-

I wake on a lumpy couch in the nurses office to the sound of hushed voices. I keep my eyes tightly shut, not wanting them to know I'm awake yet, not wanting the questions to start.

"Threw up, she did, and then fainted clean away…"

That's Mr O'Connell. Great, I just threw up in the Headteacher's office and then processed to collapse in front of him.

The nurse is murmuring something about shock or stress, and then I feel a cold cloth on my forehead. "Aislinn?"

Grudgingly I open my eyes and stare up at the nurse, who's gazing down at me with a concerned expression. "She's awake." She announces, and Mr O'Connell and Mrs O'Doherty's faces swim into view as well.

"How're you feeling?" Mr O'Connell says in a concerned voice.

I go to answer, but feel a sob rising in my chest and quickly close my mouth.

"I know you're not at your best, Aislinn," he says, sitting down in the chair next to me. "But I really need you to answer some questions."

I blink back the tears forming in my eyes and manage to nod my assent. Mr O'Connell glances up at the nurse who looks unhappy, but leaves the room.

"Now…" Mr O'Connell turns back to me. "What's given the reporters this idea that you're some kind of messiah, eh?"

I gulp again. "Róisín's dead, isn't she?"

He nods sadly, and I can see true grief in his eyes. "Yes, Aislinn. I'm afraid she is."

A single tear rolls down my cheek. "I…I should have tried harder. I told her…I did…I tried to warn her…"

"Aislinn, it's not your fault. How could you have possibly kn-"

"But I did!" the sob finally escapes. "I saw it happen, felt it happen and I tried to warn her, I did, but she didn't believe me and…and…"

Mrs O'Doherty lets out a noise of disbelief. "How could you have seen it happen?"

"I just did! On Thursday! I found her bracelet and when I touched it I saw…I saw…"

"What did you see, Aislinn?" Mr O'Connell says in a gentle voice.

"Metal." I whisper. "Twisted metal. And blood…blood on my face…in my eyes…and my leg…my leg, it hurts. And I just want it to stop…" I am sobbing freely now. "I just want someone to make it stop!"

Dead silence falls over to room.

Mr O'Connell glances at Mrs O'Doherty. "The specifics of the crash hadn't been released yet." He says to her. "Aislinn couldn't have found out about it by any methods. But the wall of the car was crushed in on top of Róisín. It trapped her leg, nearly cut it clean off. She died of blood loss. There was no way Aislinn could have found out about that. Especially not two days before it happened."

Mrs O'Doherty is staring at him. "Are you telling me you believe her? That you think this is real?"

He nods slowly.

"Bullshit."

_"_Boadicea!"

"Total bullshit! Miss Brennan, if you really do have some sort of prophetic power, then why don't you see what you can tell about me?" she raises her eyebrows.

I bite my lip. "I…I can't control it. It just happens…"

She snorts. "I thought as much. How convenient…"

I flush. "I need something." I say in a tight voice. "Something personal to you."

She stares at me for a moment before slipping off her wedding ring and passing it to me. I hold the slim golden band in my hand for a moment, staring at it, praying for the power to work. Nothing happens.

"Getting any premonitions?" she says in a sarcastic voice. "I thought not." She turns away, just as my hand begins to burn. I let out a gasp.

_The house is cold. Not through lack of heating, but through lack of life. I sit alone in the kitchen, staring at the empty chairs around the table. Slowly I set three places, once for Eoin, one for Mary and one for me. I gently touch my wedding band as I pour myself tea, but I don't pour any for them. They won't be coming to keep me company today, but I set the places anyway out of force of habit, in a vain attempt to make the house seem less empty, to make myself feel less alone. I glance up at the photos on the wall as I sip my own tea, my gaze passing over the smiling faces. Eoin in our wedding photo, so tall and handsome. Mary on her eleventh birthday, ribbons tied in her hair, beaming her gap-toothed grin at the camera. The photos of Mary only go up to fifteen; there are none after then, of course. Not after the meningitis. My eyes scan the photos of Eoin, watching as his youth slowly fades. The photos of him slowly come to a halt as well; the __cancer saw to that. My gaze slowly returns to the empty places at the table and for a moment the sea of loneliness which rises up is almost enough to drown me._

"Aislinn?"

I open my eyes to see Mr O'Connell watching me cautiously. Mrs O'Doherty is standing behind him, her face half worried, half scared. I slowly hold out the ring to her and she takes it back. It is only then that I realise my cheeks are wetter than ever. I touch a hand to the tears and then meet Mrs O'Doherty's gaze. In that moment, I know that what I saw was real, and I know she sees the pity in my eyes, and that she knows it too. Her eyes widen and she clutches the ring tightly.

"What did you see?" she asks softly.

"You know what I saw." I whisper back. "And I'm so, so sorry."

-x-

Mrs O'Doherty insists that I go back to class. "If she's away for too long, the gossip will only get worse." She says, folding her arms. "Besides, the girl needs her education."

She leads the way through the corridors, pasty classrooms full of students on the way to my maths lesson. "Keep your chin up." She barks at me. "And don't let them get to you. You've got to be brave, Aislinn, or at least act brave. If you let down your guard, let them see that they've upset you, then they'll rip you apart."

I gulp slightly, but nod. "Okay Mrs O'Doherty."

Her lips twitch. "Listen, Aislinn, I don't know what you are or why you can do what you can do, but just remember; a very wise woman once said that no one can make you feel inferior without your consent. Just remember that. If those kids lay into you, remember that you have got a powerful gift. Although it may seem like a curse at the moment, once you learn how to use it I'm sure it can be used to do some wonderful things. There will be other Róisín's out there, but this time, you will be able to save them. Do you understand me?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Oh, and Mr O'Connell was right. There was nothing you could have done for her. You couldn't have prevented it. When you have control of it, maybe you can make a difference then. But even then you won't be able to save everyone, and it won't be your duty too, no matter what people may tell you. Is that clear?"

I nod again. "Yeah. Thanks, Mrs O'Doherty."

Her lips twitch again. "You're welcome. And don't you worry, we'll make sure to get to the bottom of this reporter business. We'll discover how they found out, have no fear about that."

She comes to a halt outside the maths classroom and slowly pushes the door open. She gives my should a quick squeeze before nudging me forwards into the room, towards my fellow students who are looking at me with predatory eyes. I gulp slightly, but try to keep my chin up, stepping forwards into the room and hoping that my classmates' claws aren't as sharp as Mrs O'Doherty seems to think.

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**Reviews would be much appreciated x**


	11. 9

**Zomg! Another update? The summer holidays really are good for writing! Thank you everyone who reviewed, you really make my day! And now, on with the chapter!**

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**9**

Mrs O'Doherty comes and finds me after lunch, by which point at least thirty people have come up to me begging to have their futures told. Each time Kaitlin has fended them off with one of her famous 'evil stares', which is magnified tenfold by the lenses of her glasses, as well as the threat that if they keep bothering me, I'm going to hex them. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that, but at least it keeps them off of my back. The lesson in which she makes her appearance is art, in which there is sadly no Kaitlin to defend me, so by the point she arrives I have resorted to working right next to Miss Grantly's desk in the hope that being near her will ward off any prospective, for want of a better word, clients. Mrs O'Doherty raps twice and then marches straight in, murmurs something to Miss Grantly before beckoning me to follow her out of the room. I do so, to renewed whispering, and shut the door behind me. Mrs O'Doherty turns. "We have managed to…get a handle on the press situation." She says a little smugly. I visibly sag with relief. "As you're under eighteen and still legally a minor, we've managed to get your name withheld for legal reasons, as well as your photograph. We've also attempted to convince the reporters that it was a cruel hoax set up by a member of the student body with a grudge against you, but I'm not too sure they believed us. But in any case, for the meantime your identity is hopefully safe."

I close my eyes for a moment before flinging myself at her and hugging her tightly. "Thank you." I mumble. "Thank you so much."

She blinks before awkwardly patting me on the back. "Erm…you're welcome, Aislinn _a chara._ Now, if you'll just let go of my waist…"

"Oh. Sorry." I step back awkwardly.

She shakes her head, but the corners of her mouth are twitching again. "That's…that's quite alright. Now go on. Back to class with you." She makes a 'shoo'ing motion with her hand and I return to art class, grinning broadly.

-x-

I sit in the corner of the home's common room, headphones blaring in my ears in a vain attempt to block out the clamour of around twenty or so other children who are arguing over the remote, shrieking about boys, fighting over whose football team is the best and generally making enough noise to drown out an eighty piece orchestra.

I turn my music up.

I've been turfed out of our room by Siobhan who is preparing for what she refers to as a 'téte-a-teté' with Mark, her latest boyfriend, and who insists that she needs the whole room in order to be able to relax and therefore look her best. My music creeps up another notch. I close my eyes, trying to block out all the shrieking voices, the whirl of faces, trying to zone out into my own little world. I very nearly succeed, but am interrupted by someone barging into my arm. My eyes snap open and I stare accusingly at the perpetrator.

"Oh. Sorry."

It's a boy I don't recognise, which is weird as I know all of the kids here by now, even if some of them come and go. He must be new. He is fair haired, with very white skin and grey-blue eyes framed by pale lashes, coupled with high, sharp cheek bones and a strong, straight, slightly pointy nose. His voice is rich and accented, although I'm not quite sure where his accent's from. Maybe Russia? It's definitely Eastern European. I realise that I'm staring at him and immediately drop my gaze.

"What's your name?"

The question startles me and I look up at him again. "M…me?"

"Well I'm, not talking to anyone else, am I?" he says in a slightly snarky tone, and I feel myself flush automatically.

"Aislinn. My name's Aislinn."

"I'm Octavian." His says in a grand voice, clearly expecting this to have some sort of profound effect upon me. When it doesn't, he frowns slightly and lowers his voice to say; "It means eighth?"

Still no impact over here.

His frown deepens. "What does your name mean?" he says in a voice which suggests I'm rather dull witted. I feel my lips tighten slightly.

"I'm not sure." I say, wondering if my mingled annoyance and confusion show on my face.

"Well…assuming that the English Ashling is derived from it, then I believe your name may possibly mean 'vision' or 'dreamer'." He says still frowning at me like I'm a puzzle that he can't quite solve, a code that he can't quite unravel.

I jerk slightly at that statement. Is that what my name really means? Or is he trying to give me some sort of message? But he's new; how can he know about the things I see? Surely rumours don't travel that fast?

"How long have you been here?" his voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I realise that I was staring at him again.

"Since I was seven." I say shortly, hoping my body language, folded arms and crossed legs, sends a clear message; piss off.

"Why are you here?" he says, still looking at me with that perplexed frown, his eyebrows slightly , and, I think, arrogantly, raised.

"They found me wandering through the streets when I was a kid." I shrug coolly. "Couldn't remember anything and no relative ever claimed me."

His expression suddenly clears, as though the mystery I suddenly present has been solved. "Nothing? You can remember nothing at all?"

I shake my head slightly. "No. Nothing."

"I see…" his eyes search my face before drifting downwards. I briefly wonder what he's looking at –if I was a curvier girl I'd suspect my chest, but there's really not much in that area to oogle- before he springs his next question.

"Where did you get that necklace?" I blink, and realise that I must have slipped the pendant back on at some point. I quickly go to tuck it inside my shirt.

"Nowhere."

"Nowhere?" his eyebrows are slowly creeping up his face again. "Sounds like a funny place."

"It was a shop." I say quickly. "It's closed down now. It did weird jewellery and stuff."

"I see." His eyes are sparkling with concealed mirth, as though he's trying not to laugh. "It sounds like an interesting shop."

"It was." I get to my feet. "And if you'll excuse m-"

I freeze, a wave of dizziness going through me. My hand is still clasped around the pendant.

"Aislinn?" he frowns, staring at me, studying my face. The ground lurches and I feel like I'm going to be sick. "Shit…Aislinn…"

The room is noisy and everyone in it is busy. No one's noticed us yet. I close my eyes for a moment, and then jerk them open as I feel an arm go around my waist. Octavian drags me out of the room and into the corridor, along towards the back door.

"Hold on." He's murmuring to me. "Hold on for a moment. It's okay."

I retch slightly, and he lets out a stream of what sounds like Russian curse words.

"Aislinn…oh for God's sake…" he sweeps an arm behind my legs and scoops me up into his arms. I close my eyes again tightly, trying to fight off what I know is coming. The sound of a door opening and closing. Octavian's footsteps on the dry grass of the home's garden. And then I'm set down beneath what feels like the old apple tree, in the hidden area at the back of the garden which the younger kids build dens in until they're kicked out by the older kids who want to smoke weed. No one's here today though.

"Aislinn, can you hear me?"

He's speaking to me with what sounds like a mixture of concern and irritation in his voice.

"Yes." I manage to croak.

"Then do what I say. Stop fighting it."

_What?_ "What should I listen to you?" I mumble, my hands curled into fists.

"Because I…" he hesitates, as if he's unsure what to say. "Because I know about this stuff. It only hurts because you're fighting it. If you want to control it you have to embrace it. Otherwise it'll just hurt more and more every time.

"But I don't want to…" I let out a sob. "I don't want to see things. I don't want to."

"_See things_…" I hear him murmur softly. "_Prophecy. Of course._ Why not?" the last part of the sentence is directed at me instead of himself.

"Because I only ever…" I struggle for a moment to stop myself from slipping under. "Only ever see…see bad things…"

"That's only because negative emotions are stronger. You've got to focus on what you want to see, Aislinn. And if you want to see a happy vision, then focus on seeing a happy vision."

I screw my eyes more tightly shut. A happy vision? Like what?

_Something happy, something happy, something happy…_

A vision in slowly swimming into my mind. I try to relax and stop fighting.

_A woman. An old woman with long silvery hair is standing at the sink, smiling at me as I run around the lawn in circles outside the window._

"Can you still hear me Aislinn?"

"Yes."

_She laughs as I trip and tumble to the ground in a heap, and I laugh as well as I pull myself up, unharmed, dusting grass off of myself._

"Deep breaths. Breath in…and out…"

_She leaves the sink and moves outside, gathering me up in her arms and kissing me on the forehead. Her eyes are soft and the same shade of grey as mine. She carries me inside, stroking my hair and whispering to me how much she loves me before kissing my nose._

"Aislinn? Are you alright?"

I can feel my cheeks are wet. I force myself to nod, and as I do so I feel the vision beginning to shift out of my control again. My body tenses.

_The grey eyes looking up at me with a sheen of tears as I'm removed from her arms, wailing and carried away to some kind of strange transport I don't recognise…_

"Aislinn? Can you hear me? Aislinn!"

_The grey eyes narrowed with concentration as she ducks daggers flying through the air, fire flaming in her palms as she battles strange looking creatures with black eyes and pale skin…_

I can feel my body trembling now, sweat beading on my forehead as the vision spirals out of my grasp.

_The grey eyes staring blankly up at the sky as she lies in a pool of her own blood, her silver hair stained scarlet…_

Pain explodes in my cheek and my eyes snap open.

Octavian stares down at me, his hand still raised, ready to hit me again if necessary. "Aislinn?" he says, staring at me. "Are you awake?"

I nod slowly, staring up at the sky, not bothering to sit up, the woman's face burnt into my mind. "Why are you here?" I say slowly. "In the home, I mean?"

He blinks, sitting back, seeming almost startled by the change of subject. He's very quiet for a little while. "My family died." He says after a long, pregnant pause. "All of my family died. They were murdered."

I'm silent for a moment. "That must be awful. I'm so sorry."

He glances down at me and for a moment I think I see pity in his eyes, as well as desperate sadness. "So am I, Aislinn." He says after a long moment. "So am I."

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**Please review! x**


	12. INTERLUDE II

**INTERLUDE**

_The Hunters_

'_DUBLIN'S OWN ORACLE!_' screams the headline.

"Here!"

The boy and the girl look up at their friend's shout.

"What is it?"

"There's an article in a Dublin newspaper about a sixteen year old girl who correctly predicted that a girl in her school would die about three days before she was killed in a car crash." He says in a rush, without pausing for breath.

The girl frowns, moving over to stand behind him in order to get a better look at the computer screen he's looking at, and he feels his face heat up slightly. "What's her name?"

"It says it's withheld for legal reasons. Probably because she's a minor. But she attends Saint Patrick's Secondary School in Dublin. There's a photo too, but her face has been blurred out." He points to the picture. The girls frown deepens.

"You think she could be a number?"

He nods. "It's possible, isn't it? I mean, someone's obviously gone to the trouble of concealing her name and picture…"

"True…" the girl scans the article. "The eyewitness accounts…it does sound like a legacy activating…the sweating and the shaking…the sickness…" She glances at the other boy. "What do you think?"

"Well we have no other leads…and South America's given us nothing." He nods slowly. "I think we should go for it. I just get a feeling…"

"A feeling that she's one of us?"

"Yes. A feeling that she's one of us. And if it's in the paper…"

"Then they might get there first." girl nods slowly. "Pack up then. We're leaving straight away."


	13. 10

**Okay, just found about the Fallen Legacies novella thing...hey, this story's totally gone off the canon rails...ah well XD. It's totally based on the information provided in the first book only, with little bits about the powers in the chest from POS. Just bear that in mind, okay? Thanks guys XD xxx**

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**10**

Kaitlin shoves the paper into my hands the next day, the minute she enters the form room. "Congratulations, Ash; you've made page five news of the local trashy tabloid!"

"Sh!" I say, wishing she hadn't announced that so loudly. Truth be told, I'd deliberately gone out of my way to avoid this morning's papers, too terrified of looking inside to see what they've written, despite Mrs O'Doherty's reassurance.

"Well come on! Read it then!" she says, eager to see my reaction. I roll my eyes, but flip through the pages until I reach page five. There's a picture of me in front of the school; my hair and my body are clearly visible but my face is blurred out. I vaguely wonder whether dying my hair would be too extreme, but then again I suppose there are loads of girls with dark brown hair out there; I'm not going to be too inconspicuous. My gaze turns to the headline: '_DUBLIN'S OWN ORACLE!_' Wow. Classy.

Kaitlin is cackling away next to me at the expression on my face, so I hit her arm. "Shut up!"

"Ouch!" she winces. "That was a really hard punch! You don't know your own strength!"

"Oh great, so I suppose I'm turning into superman now, aren't I?" I say, scowling at her. "I know you're feigning. It wasn't that hard a hit."

She snorts. "Just read the article."

I roll my eyes before returning to the paper.

_'The community of St Patricks High School was greatly shocked and saddened by the untimely death of an 18 year old student, who was killed in a road accident whilst travelling to Galway this weekend. However, it seems that more surprises were in store for the students, when it was revealed to us, The Dublin Comet, that one of the other students knew a little more about the death than would be expected; in fact, she had predicted it three days before the accident took place._

_"She just came up to her in the playground." Mary Blake, 17, told us. "Looked her dead in the face and told her not to go to Galway this weekend. Begging her she was, telling her something bad was going to happen. I was right next to them, heard the whole thing."_

_And this was not the first time the 16 year old student, whose name had been withheld by the school for legal reasons, had experienced a premonition of this kind._

_"She had this weird kind of fit in History." Seamus O'Shaunasee, one of the unnamed girls classmates, reports. "We had a speaker in who was telling us about the Second World War. She started shaking all over, and sweating. We thought she was going to be sick. And then bam; she opens her eyes and starts talking to the woman about how her dead brother was killed by Germans. We were all really freaked out. She's had them in other classes as well. It's really creepy."_

_The girl herself refused to comment._

_So what kind of power, exactly, does this simple schoolgirl hold? Is this merely an elaborate hoax, or are there more supernatural forces at work? _

_Tell us your thoughts on this story by tweeting Dublin_Comet._'

"Simple schoolgirl…" Kaitlin is chucking away. "Oh great Oracle, disguised as just a mere schoolgirl, please, tell me my futu- OW!" she yelps as the rolled up newspaper connects with the back of her head.

"Shurrup!" I say, leaning back in my chair and sighing. "Do you think they'll let me transfer schools?"

"What, and leave me?" she says indignantly. "No way!"

"I suppose it will be hard for you to find anyone else who'll patiently sit there whilst you rave about your latest anime obsession…" I muse.

"On the subject of which, I've started watching this new anime and the two guys in it are sooooo cute together, I mean it's practically canon, Ash, PRACTICALLY CANON!" she squeals, flailing her hands in the air.

"I thought you already had a…what is it called? OTT?"

"It's OTP, Ash! One True Pairing! And I did, because Light and L were just the cutest, but now Suzaku and Lelouch…."

"I have no idea who these people are, Kate. And it sounds more like OTT to me…"

"NO! You did NOT just insult my OTP! You can't do that! I-"

I close my eyes and tune out her words, a small smile on my mouth. Nope, Kate definitely wouldn't be able to find anyone else to rave at. But, really, I wouldn't want her too.

-x-

She's still harping on about that damn article as we walk out of school at the end of the day. "The fools have given us their twitter account! I think I might tweet at them; 'Your article is full of bullshit! And why the hell was it only on page five? My friend is front page news, thank you very much!'

I snort. "Thanks very much for the offer Kate, but I really would not want that splashed on the front page…"

"Yes you do! If you're going to be in the paper, oh mighty Oracle of Dublin, you've at least got to make it onto the front page…"

I sigh as we walk out the gates and along the pavement on the way to the bus stop, past a line of parked cars.

"No thanks Kate; I really would rather people didn't know about this…"

She blinked. "Hey Ash, you know no one will take the crap they wrote seriously, right? No one's going to believe a rag like the Dublin Comet."

I chew my lip, playing with the pendant as we walk towards a parked car containing three teenagers arguing over a map. "They might." I say in a small voice. "People at school did."

"You mean Mary and Seamus? No, they don't really believe it; they just want their five minutes of fame. Trust me, it'll all blow over soon."

"But what if it doesn't, Kate?" I say this rather too loudly and I see the dark haired girl in the car look up curiously. I lower my voice slightly. "What if people believe it? What then? What if they think I am a freakin' Oracle or something?"

I see the girl get out the car and begin to walk towards us. I grip Kaitlin's arm, and avoid the girls gaze.

"Excuse me?"

Oh shit, she's speaking to us.

"Yeah?" Kaitlin says coolly, linking her arm through mine protectively. "Can we help you?"

"You both go to St Patrick's Secondary?" she says, looking us up and down, taking in the uniforms. She's got an accent; I think it's American.

"Yes." Kaitlin says, raising her eyebrows. "What of it?"

"Well, I couldn't help overhearing your conversation…you're the girl from the article?"

Kaitlin glances at me. I feel all the colour drain from my face. "I…I..."

"Are you?" she says, stepping forwards. "Because that's what it sounded like to me.

"It's none of your business!" Kaitlin says fiercely, moving so that she's in front of me. "It's nothing to do with you. That article was a load of crap; just some stupid hoax by some insensitive pricks! Now clear off and leave my friend alone!"

I feel my heart swell with affection for my friend and I find myself having to blink back tears as I mentally cheer Kate on.

"I think it may be something to do with me, actually." She says, lowering her voice. "I'd like to talk to your friend alone, please."

"Feck off. I'm going nowhere." Kaitlin folds her arms. I can see the girl getting angrier, even though she's trying to remain calm.

"Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Kaitlin." I say, my voice shaking slightly.

The girl blinks but sighs. "Look. I'm Six." She gives me a meaningful gaze.

Kaitlin and I exchange looks. Six? Six what?

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Kaitlin says after a long pause.

The girl blinks, looking surprised, before frowning. "Show me your ankle." She suddenly barks at me. "Show me your ankle now!"

I stare at her. How does she know about the scars on my ankles?

"Show me! Come on!"

"Why?" Kaitlin snaps at her. "What's so special about her ankles?"

My socks are suddenly yanked down by an invisible hand and my scars are brought into plain sight. The girls face lights up.

"You are! You are one of us! You-"

"Leave me alone!" I pull my socks up angrily, my head throbbing, like something is trying to surface, something buried deep inside my mind. Whatever it is scares me. "I don't know who you are or what you want with me! Just leave me alone!"

I see a perplexed look on the girls face before I spin on my heel and run, as fast as I can back in the direction of the home and normality.

-x-

"Hey, you got into the paper then." Octavian doesn't look up from the computer screen as I burst into the common room. "Nice going. That's just what we needed."

I immediately feel my hackles rise but there are more pressing issues than the fact that something about this guy makes me want to punch him. We're the only two there; the others are probably all still waiting for the bus. I must have run really fast, faster than normal; it's a mile and a half walk back to the home and it normally takes me about twenty five minutes. I glance at the clock. It's only taken me about five minutes to run back. Five minutes? No way. I'm not that fast. The clock must be wrong.

"Aislinn?" Octavian looks up and sees me bent double and sweating, my face bright red. "Have you been running?"

"No shit, Sherlock." I mutter, my breathing beginning to slow. Am I imagining it, or am I recovering much faster than I usually would?

"What happened?" he says in an exasperated voice, minimising the window on the computer.

"This…this girl…she came up to me outside school….she was with two boys…she said her name was Six…I don't know…I don't know what's going on…"I feel tears burning in my eyes and rapidly blink them away. No way am I going to cry in front of him.

"Six? Are you sure?" his icy blue eyes bore into me and I meet them with a defiant look as I straighten.

"No. I just made her name up." I snap. "Of course I'm sure. That's what she said it was."

"Alright, sweetheart, no need to get stressy…" he gives me a patronising look, which makes me feel about five years old. Whatever moment we shared under the apple tree is gone.

"Shut up." I snap, feeling myself flush.

"So what did you do?"

"Well, she started insisting that I show her my ankles, and then when she saw I've got this weird scar there she starting insisting that I was 'one of us', whoever 'us' is. So anyway, I freaked out, told her to leave me alone and got the hell out of there."

"Smooth." He said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Very smooth."

I grit my teeth. "I'd like to see what you would have done."

"I'd probably have tried to find out who she thought I was. Got information out of her. Anyway, it's okay; I know who she is, and she's on our side. What were the boys called?"

"_Our_ side?" I frown. "I'm not on a side. Especially not one with you, Mr Know It All. And she didn't tell me." There's a long pause. "Who was she? What's going on, Octavian?"

He chuckles softly. "You are on a side. Whether you know it or not." He gives me a considering look. "I don't think you're ready to know, yet. But if she found you that easily, others will too. We have to leave."

"Whoa. Whoa." I hold up my hands. "Leave? What the hell do you mean? What gives you the idea that I'd go anywhere with you? I barely know you! What the hell is going on? Why won't you tell me?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, an exasperated look on his face. "You've got two days. I need to sort some things. Then we leave."

"But-"

"People will come looking for you, Aislinn. And you're not going to like what they'll do to you when they find you. Two days. Maximum. The follow up article I've created should buy us some time. Then we leave. No arguments."

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**Please review! xxx**


	14. INTERLUDE III

**So…yeah. I'm an evil neglecter again. What can I say :S Well, for a start, I can say: THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS YOU AWESOME LOVELY PEOPLE :D And I can also say sorry D: Life and other fics caught me :S But University applications are all sent off now, and I've had two offers, so yay, and I've been asked to send off a Creative Writing portfolio thingy, which I have done, so I am now relatively free! Apart from the two essays due in for Thursday which I still haven't written. Meh. Anyway, here is an interlude to keep you going, sorry that it's not that long, but hopefully it will shortly be followed by a chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who reviews, it just makes me so happy! Thank you all! xxx**

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**INTERLUDE**

_Reunion_

The hotel is run down, dusty and dark.

Not, however, as dark as the girls mood.

"She ran away!" she says, almost indignantly. "She ran away! Why?"

The boys glance at each other. She's been like this for a while; confused and angry.

"She's one of _us_! She had the scars and everything! Why would she run? I told her who I was!"

One of the boys lets out a sigh.

She rounds on him. "Well?! Do you have an explanation?"

He shrinks back, shaking his head. "No. Sorry. Urm…maybe she likes it here?"

"You think she _likes _it here?"

His stature diminishes even further as she advances on him.

"Well she's not going to like it here when the Mogadorians invade, kill everyone and strip the planet of its natural resources, is she?!" she snarled.

"Hey…hey…" the other boy rests a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down. You don't need to yell at him; it's not his fault."

The first boy looks back at the computer, biting his lip.

"It's just…so frustrating!" she lets out an exasperated sigh. "We've finally found another number and she's refusing to come with us! If the Mogodorians get here…" she twists her hands together in agitation. "We need to leave. As soon as possible. And she needs to be with us, one way or another."

"Six, you can't just go around kidnapping people!" the first boy exclaims, turning around to stare at her.

"It's for her own good." She insists, folding her arms.

"What if she has a family here?" the boy says. "They wouldn't know where she'd gone! She'd just disappear into thin air and never be seen again!"

The other boy sighs once more, sitting down and resting his head in his hands.

"Sam, the way things are going, I don't see that we have a choice." The girl replies, lowering her eyes. "If there was any other way…"

"There is."

Within a second, the uninvited fourth member of the party is pinned to the floor with a knife at his throat.

"Woah..." he laughs, revelling white teeth. "You are feisty, aren't you?"

The girl's glare darkens and she presses the knife harder against his throat, pressing her knee into his stomach. "Who are you ?" she snarls.

"You know, you should really learn to keep the windows closed." The boy continues, a smirk hovering around his lips. "It was all too easy to get in. And you didn't even notice me until I spoke."

"I said, _who are you?_"

The boy winces slightly as a few red beads of blood trickle down from his neck and stain his shirt.

"_Remove the knife._" He says in a soft voice, and, to the amazement of the two boys, the girl suddenly smiles and lets the knife drop to the floor.

"_Now stand up and sit on that chair._" The boy says, still in the same calm voice, and like a marionette being controlled by an invisible puppet master, the girl vacantly moves to the chair and sits down.

"Stop it." One of the boys says. "Stop whatever you're doing to her."

The new arrival grins and rubs his neck. "If you insist."

The girl blinks a couple of times, before going to lunge at the newcomer, but before she can commit GBH, he's gone. She staggers, looking shocked for a moment.

"Behind you."

She whips around, and there he is once more, leaning casually against the wall, still smirking. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped attacking me." He says in a bored voice. "The Mogadorian's have done enough of that already."

"You're a number." One of the other boys says, examining him.

"No shit." The strange boy says, clapping slowly. "Took you long enough."

The girl is still glaring at him, her grey eyes stormy.

"Now," he says, sinking casually into a chair and crossing one leg over the other. "I believe you were inquiring about our little Irish friend here."

"That's right." The girl says in a tight voice.

He nods. "I think I've just about befriended her. I believe she trusts me at any rate. Getting her to come with us shouldn't be a problem." His smirk widens. "And if she puts up a fight about it…well." He taps his nose. "Believe me, I have my methods."

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**Please review :) Next chapter should hopefully be up soon!**


	15. 11

**Yeah, I said I'd update this soon.**  
**I lied.**  
**Well, I didn't exactly lie, but you know what I mean. XD I life-ed XD Contrary to popular belief XD I promise that I'm not dead.  
One reason is, I actually have like…friends. For the first time in my life. This is so weird for me. But I'm actually like seeing them every day, and like…having sleepovers every weekend, and it's crazy! And then I had a load _more_ essays. And I'm like…behind on every subject. Yaaaay! And then when I was actually like 'I'm going to update! I will! I will update!' I fell ill and had to lie in a darkened room for five days or so because light gave me really bad headaches. And then I had to catch up on school. And I turned eighteen! Yeah! I'm an adult now! How freakin' scary is that!? And my fave Uni Course rejected me. Sad times! But my second fave accepted me! Happy times! And Supernatural. So much Supernatural. I have watched five series in the past month. That much Supernatural. That didn't help updates.  
And there is basically my life since my last update. Sorry. You probably didn't need to know that. But there it is. I'm just one bloody excuse after another, aren't I? Sorry! You guys must get sick of me! I can't believe that people still read this! Thank you very much, for doing so, it is so much appreciated! **  
**Now this chapter was meant to be full of ACTION! You were expecting action, weren't you? Instead, I give you revelations. And TUMBLR.**  
**(I'm sure the action will happen in the next chapter or something…)**

**Lots of love, and thank you so much for everyone who reviews!**

**Sapphy**

**xxx**

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**11**

Octavian's follow up article is published the next day. I have no idea how he managed it, but one way or another he's convinced a journalist from the _Dublin Comet_ that the entire thing was an elaborate hoax by school bullies to torment a poor, innocent schoolgirl. Just knowing that the ridiculous article of before has been well and truly nullified seems to make the day brighter, even though Octavian is coming to school with me today, which is bound to be exceedingly annoying. Just like him. What's even more annoying is the fact that when Octavian returns to me after receiving his timetable from reception, somehow he's managed to worm his way into _every single one _of my classes. What the hell.  
"Are you a stalker?" I snap as we walk along the corridor towards my…_our_…form room.  
"I don't know what you mean." He says innocently, that stupid half smirk of his loitering on his lips.  
"Oh yes you do. Why are you in all of my classes?"  
"To protect you." He replies, his tone practically saintly. "I'm just doing this for your own good, Aislinn."  
That's it. I suddenly grab his arm, pulling him into a medium sized storage cupboard and shutting the door behind us. I shove him up against the wall, narrowing my eyes. "Listen, buster. I don't know what your game is. If you're so keen to protect me, why the fuck don't you just tell me what I need protecting _from_, huh, instead of keeping me in the dark? Answer me that!"  
He doesn't reply, still smirking in that unbearable way, and I feel something inside of me _snap_. I have been tormented by weird visions, ignored by my schoolmates, forced to watch people I know _die_, been featured in the local tabloid, and above all, this smug bastard holds all the answers but _won't let me know what they are!_  
So that is why I swing a punch at his face.  
He's not expecting it, and, to my satisfaction, he doesn't block it. His straight, aristocratic nose doesn't look half so pretty when blood is gushing out of it. He stares at me for a second in disbelief, before saying:  
"Ouch."  
I barely have time to give him a taste of his own medicine and smirk at him before suddenly I'm face down on the floor, my cheek pressed into the cold lino of the corridor with my arms twisted up behind my back, and Octavian sitting on top of me. My God he's _heavy_!  
"Do not." He hisses in my ear. "Try me. You might find that you don't like the consequences."  
"Then maybe you…" I gasp back at him. "Should try not to be such a dick. You might find that you don't like the consequences of that."  
I suddenly hear the last sound I expect.  
Laughter.  
Octavian rolls off of me, beginning to laugh almost slightly hysterically.  
After a moment, although I have no idea why, I join in.  
We laugh, and we laugh, until tears are streaming down both of our cheeks. Eventually I manage to roll over, so I'm lying on my back next to him, lying on my back and still just laughing. Eventually, we both begin to calm down. I sit up, leaning against the wall, and after a moment, he joins me.  
"Why are we laughing?" I manage to say, when I can breathe again, still chuckling now and then.  
"I don't know." He replies, wiping his eyes and pulling out a tissue to hold to his bleeding nose. "This whole thing is just so screwed up. So ridiculous. We're just kids. I don't know what we can do. But we have to do it."  
"Do what?" I look up at him, my laughter suddenly dying. "Tell me."  
He sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I don't want to."  
"Why not? Why won't you let me know the truth?"  
"The truth is a burden, Aislinn. It doesn't always bring enlightenment. And this truth won't. Just fear and anger. And sadness." He stares up at the ceiling, his grey eyes far away.  
"I still need to know." I whisper. "I can't carry on not knowing, Octavian. Not if I'm in danger."  
"Ignorance is bliss." He murmurs.  
"'_Veritas liberabit vos_.'"  
"Are you quoting the Bible at me now? In Latin?"  
"'The truth will set you free.' Learnt it for an R.S exam."  
"'_Quid est veritas?_' though, huh?" he raises his eyebrows at me. "What is truth?"  
"Stop philosophising. Come on. Just give me some answers."  
"You are the biggest pest I have ever had the misfortune to meet, you know that Aislinn?"  
"I can't be that bad."  
"What gives you that impression?"  
"You're still trying to protect me or whatever."  
"True, true." A smile flickers at the corner of his lips for a moment before it's extinguished. "There are things out there which know about your powers, Aislinn."  
I frown. "What do you mean? Who knows?"  
"Just…there are creatures that are hunting you. Hunting us. To kill us."  
"What?! Why? What the hell have I ever done to them?"  
"You exist. That's enough. There were nine of us. Nine of us with these powers."  
"What do you mean _were_?"  
"Three of them are dead."  
"_What_?!"  
"The things that are hunting us killed them. Like they'll kill us if they find us."  
"But why?" I can feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes but refuse to let them loose. "Why me? Why do I have these powers? What did I do to get them?"  
He opens his mouth, but then seems to reconsider, closing it again.  
"Octavian! Tell me!"  
"You were just born with them he says after a moment. "We all were. All nine of us."  
"And the scars?"  
"One shows which number you are?"  
My eyes widen. "Which number?"  
"I'm number eight. Octavian. And the girl-"  
"Was number six."  
"Exactly."  
I stare at the wall in silence for a moment, trying not to freak out. The piece of paper I have…  
"I'm number Five." I say in a tiny voice after a moment.  
Octavian looks at me sharply. "How do you know?"  
"It's on a piece of paper I have. I was found with it. It was in an envelope, with this necklace."  
"Huh." He frowns, turning this new piece of information over in his mind. "How did you get taken into care again?"  
"They found me in the road with a head wound. Took me to hospital. I didn't know my own name. They waited for a parent to claim me. No one came. Then the police discovered that I didn't technically exist. I had a weird accent, but only spoke English, so they didn't think I was an illegal immigrant or something. My accent became Irish over time anyway. So they just stuck me in a care home and left me to rot. And here I am."  
"A head wound?"  
"Huh?"  
"You said that you had a head wound. So I'm assuming you have amnesia?"  
"Well yeah, that's what I always figured. Why?"  
"Well…all of us had some kind of guardian with us."  
"A guardian?" My eyes widen. "You mean like a parent? Do you know about my parents?"  
He sighs then, a long, deep sigh, which blows away any seeds of hope which were starting to grow in my mind.  
"What is it?" I say, a feeling of foreboding building inside of me.  
"You parents are dead."  
I stare at him, a cold feeling spreading through me.  
"They were murdered. Just like mine. All of your family was."  
"How…" I manage to stammer after a moment. "How can you be sure?"  
"I don't remember it happening, Aislinn. But my guardian…my Cêpan, he told me. What happened. The people who are after us….they killed all of our families and destroyed our home. And they're coming after us to finish the job."  
I stare at him blankly, feeling the blood slowly rush from my face. I thought I'd given up on my parents; I'd assumed, when they never came for me, that they simply didn't care. But I never imagined this. That they were murdered. "And my…my guardian?"  
"I'm assuming that they're dead too. I'm sorry Aislinn."  
I turn away from him, quickly wiping my eyes. It's stupid to get upset over people I don't even remember. But just knowing that once there might have been people who loved me… "We should go to registration." I say after a moment into the awkward silence which has replaced our previous conversation. "We're already late."  
"Okay." He says. And when I glance back at him, his previously arrogant demeanour has been replaced by an uncomfortable look, which is almost tinged by something like…fear. He shuffles his feet, unable to meet my eyes.  
"What?" I frown.  
'Nothin'." He mumbles, still unable to look at me. "We should go." Suddenly, he reaches out a hand and uneasily pats me on the shoulder twice.  
I stare at him. "What was that for?"  
"Urm…I just…" he looks, if possible, even more embarrassed. "Tears scare me."  
"Oh."  
"Yeah."  
I continue to stare at him.  
"What?!" he says finally, glancing up at me.  
"You act all mysterious, but seriously, you're just such…a boy." I laugh and push open the door of the cupboard and, after a moment's hesitation, he follows me out into the thankfully empty corridor.

-x-

"Miss Brennan!"  
I wince as I walk into registration. We're both ten minutes late.  
"Sorry Mrs O'Doherty." I mumble. "I was collecting Octavian. He's new."  
Mrs O'Doherty blinks as she sees the newest member of our class entering the room, holding a bloody tissue to his nose.  
"Delighted to meet you." He says in his Eastern European accent (I really need to ask where he got that; in fact, I need to know more about his life in general…), before taking Mrs O'Doherty's hand and kissing it graciously. She looks, for once in her life, absolutely flummoxed.  
"Erm…okay…well…both of you take your seats." She says. Something tells me she would have been less surprised if Octavian had been a walking and talking narwhal.  
I quickly slide into my seat at the back, and Octavian follows me.  
"Who's Prince Charming then?" Kaitlin hisses to me before my behind has even come into contact with the plastic of my seat.  
"New guy at the home." I murmur back, glancing at Octavian out of the corner of my eye. He's not looking at us, but I get the feeling that he can hear every word we say.  
"Right. Hm. What happened to his nose?"  
"I punched him."  
"Really? Huh. Nice one. He looks slimy."  
"Slimy?"  
"Well yeah. I mean, he's a good looking example of the male race, but he just freakin' kissed our form tutors hand. What the actual fuck. Who even does that?"  
"She didn't give us detention though, did she?" A smooth, accented voice joins our conversation.  
Oh holy macaroni. He _has_ been listening to every word we've said.  
"Well know, I suppose not…" Kaitlin stares at him.  
He stares back.  
She continues to stare at him.  
He looks away first.  
"Anyway, Ash." She continues talking to me as if he doesn't exist. "I got on to Series Two of _Code Geass_ last night-"  
"Oh God! Wasn't the episode finale of Series One heart-breaking?"  
Kaitlin and I turn at the same time to stare at the good looking example of the male race sitting next to me.  
"What?" Kaitlin finally says, slightly faintly.  
"Well…I mean…When Suzaku and Lelouch were facing each other…"  
"Merlin?"  
"Yes."  
"Doctor Who?"  
"Yes."  
"Sherlock."  
"Yes."  
"_Supernatural_?"  
"Yes."  
"Tumblr URL?"  
"StupidSexyDwarves."  
"Marry me now."  
"Gladly."  
I stare as my best friend proposes to the weird guy who only forced himself into my life two days ago in order to inform me that people are trying to kill me and my entire family was murdered.  
Why do things like this only happen when Katlin is in the nearby vicinity?

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**This is what happens when I write in the vicinity of my friend Chase. Tumblr and insanity dominates.**

**Please review.**

**xxx**


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